


What a little whisky can do

by tangledupinmist



Series: 2018 Nonnatus Holiday Card Exchange fics [4]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Engagement, F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangledupinmist/pseuds/tangledupinmist
Summary: It's New Year's Eve 1958 and Patrick and Shelagh have a conversation about their future married life.





	What a little whisky can do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ramblingviolinist](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ramblingviolinist).



> For @ramblingviolinist from @tangledupinmist  
> for the 2018 Nonnatun Holiday Card Exchange

“It smells delicious,” Patrick exclaimed while hanging his coat and hat. When he proceeded into his kitchen, he felt his heart leap at the sight of Shelagh, wearing an apron, in the process of putting on the kettle.

She turned her head and looked at him with a broad smile and his heart made another leap. “With all the good food we had bought, I didn’t want to waste any,” she said shyly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He approached her with two quick strides and reassuringly held her by her upper arms. “No, not at all, darling.” He gave her a quick peck on her cheek, causing a delicate blush to spread all over her face into her neckline; also causing his heart to leap for the third time in under one minute.

“How is Timothy?” Shelagh asked. It was more of a rhetorical question, Patrick knew, as Shelagh had spent the entire day with his son at the hospital. She had only left just about two hours ago, soon after he had arrived at the ward, happy to find his son and fiancée busy with a card game.

She had excused herself with having to sort out a few things at her lodgings, and also offered to prepare dinner for Patrick. He, in turn, hadn’t expected her to dish up a feast with several courses, judging from the many pots and pans on the stove. He had rather expected a hearty soup, or a traditional stew, perhaps.

It was New Year’s Eve; one week after Timothy had been rushed to hospital with polio. The boy was still weak, but he would pull through, and his health was improving slowly but steadily. Shelagh and Patrick had taken turns watching over their son (yes, this was how they already referred to him. Patrick was grateful that Shelagh spent most of her time at the hospital, so he needn’t worry about Timothy. Since three days, Patrick was on call again and he felt that he had hardly gotten to see either his son or his fiancée ever since. And it felt like an eternity.

Shelagh had suggested they have dinner together at Patrick’s place, as it was New Year’s Eve and they had already bought a few foodstuffs the week ago in anticipation of spending the holidays together as a family.

Patrick had happily agreed. In the weeks before, Shelagh had often prepared dinner for him and Timothy. After dinner, they usually had sat together for an hour or so, until Timothy had to go to bed. Shelagh had always left by that same time, and Patrick had never dared ask her to stay longer out of concern of tarnishing her reputation.

Having dinner just the two of them might come dangerously close to exactly that. But then, it was only 7 pm, and if he had her back by her curfew at 9.30 pm, no one could really say anything. Also, the past days were supposed to have been the start of their life as a family, a start that was only put on hold for a while and would come very soon, both were more than certain.

* * *

 

“What is it, Patrick?” Shelagh asked curiously. Dinner was eaten and both Shelagh and Patrick had leaned back into their chairs, stomachs full with Shelagh’s perfectly cooked dinner.

“I was wondering whether… erm, whether you would care for a celebratory whisky? A feast like this calls for a worthy ending I should think,” Patrick carefully suggested.

Shelagh smiled warmly. “I am a Scot, you know. We don’t mind a wee dram every now and then.”

Patrick laughed a relieved laughter. “Oh, yes, how could I doubt that.” He felt happy and lightheaded. There was still so much to learn about his future wife. He rose from the table, went into the kitchen and returned with two tumblers and a bottle.

“What is it, why are you smiling?” Patrick asked self-consciously. Again, he thought how little he still knew the woman he adored like nothing else in the world.

“Well, it seems that you and my father do not only share your taste in cigarettes,” she said, nodding towards the bottle’s label.

Patrick chuckled. “I would love to – “ he paused for a few seconds and eventually murmured: “Never mind.”

“No, please, go ahead,” Shelagh encouraged him.

“Well, forgive me if this sounds offensive, but I was going to say that it seems your father and me, we share our taste in women, too. I assume your mother was a lovely woman just as you.”

Patrick winced. He instantly felt sorry, for he knew that Shelagh had lost her mother as a child and wasn’t certain whether it wouldn’t make her sad, being reminded of her. And yes, Shelagh’s face was clouded by a shadow. He scolded himself for being so insensitive.

But she was smiling again. “What a lovely thing to say. I would have loved for you two to meet. When I told him that I was going to join the order he said he should have known that if I ever got married it was to the most perfect being that there is.”

Patrick’s face fell. He was reminded of how he had caused her to leave this life that once had been perfect for her.

Now it was Shelagh calming her fiancée. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it in encouragement. “I think he was right, you know,” she whispered. “I am going to get married to the most perfect husband I can think of.”

Patrick felt a wave of warmth rush through his body. Embarrassed, he remembered the bottle he was still holding, and quickly poured each of them a generous amount of the golden liquid.

“Should we move to the settee?” he suggested.

“Would you mind if we cleared the table first?“ Shelagh said carefully. “Not washing up, just putting everything into the kitchen.” She smiled a shy smile. “It is hard for me to get comfortable when there are tasks I have yet to finish,” she confessed. Patrick smiled. He found it quite endearing learning more about her quirks.

“No, I don’t mind,” Patrick said, rose from his chair and began to carry the cooking dishes into the kitchen while Shelagh took care or the plates and cutlery.

Once they were done, Patrick carried their tumblers and the whisky bottle to the coffee table and waited until Shelagh had sat down on the settee before her joined her.

Patrick felt self-conscious again. He longed for being near Shelagh, but he often wasn’t sure when it might be too much. They could have been married by now. Then, he wouldn’t have to think about how many inches between them might be considered proper.

A movement of Shelagh shook him out of his thoughts. Shelagh reached for the tumblers, handed his to him and said: “To Timothy and a quick recovery.”

Patrick smiled and added: “And to you, the loveliest woman who I could ever wish to be with.”

Shelagh blushed and took quite a large sip, Patrick noted. He did the same and placed his glass back on the table. Just when he thought he might shuffle just a little bit closer, Shelagh moved into his direction, leaning ever so lightly against his arm. Patrick felt heat crawling into his body through his left upper arm where Shelagh’s upper arm pressed against his.

He smiled at her and said gently: “You look lovely, with your cheeks all red.”

Shelagh reciprocated his smile and said: “Yes, you can always tell from my face when I have had some alcohol.”

They looked at each other for a while until Patrick leaned slightly forward. He noticed she did the same and then they shared a kiss, more intimate than any kiss they had been sharing before. When they parted, Patrick noticed how Shelagh’s cheeks had become even more flushed, and a few strands of hair had come loose. He affectionately brushed them back behind her ear and both looked at each other in silence.

Shelagh bit her lips. Suddenly she drew in a breath and said, her voice almost toneless: “How do you do it? Make a marriage work?”

Patrick smiled. The alcohol seemed to make her a bit bolder. He loved it.

“What do you mean?” he asked, wanting to hear more about the route of Shelagh’s thoughts.

“I – I, mean, you and Marianne, you always seemed very happy. So you know how to make it work. You have an advantage over me, I am afraid,” she smiled shyly.

“Oh Shelagh,” Patrick said, almost moved to tears. “There is no magic trick,” he said gently. “It is important to always talk to each other. I think this was what kept Marianne and me together. We could talk about work as she had been a nurse, too. But we also made sure to take our minds off family and work for a short while and speak about other things. Yes, I think this is it.”

Shelagh nodded. “Then let us do this,” she said. “Always talk to each other. Not just about work and family.”

Patrick took her left hand into both of his, raised it to his mouth and placed a kiss on her engagement ring. “Yes, I promise you this.”

Shelagh looked at him earnestly. “I promise, too,” she whispered. Again, both looked at each other in awe. Not long before the new year would begin, the year that would mean the beginning of their life as a new family.


End file.
